


Time-Outs in Hope County

by My_Dear_Watson



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 18:02:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15345432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Dear_Watson/pseuds/My_Dear_Watson
Summary: Collection of prompt fills from Tumblr.





	1. John/Female Deputy: You Look Like I Need a Drink

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a glutton for validation so I figured get on the "post all your Tumblr Prompt Fills" train. Most of them are one-offs that feature my Deputy Nic from New Divide, but the fills themselves aren't really in that Universe. Most are John/Deputy, but there are other pairings thrown in.

Prompt: "Are you drunk?" coming from dep to John.  
Rating: T  
Pairing: John/Deputy  
Summary: Deputy Nicolette Raylan’s plan of hiding out after an “Only You” episode backfires spectacularly.   
Additional Notes: Also, spot the two Back-When-Joss-Whedon-Was-Good References and you win my undying affection. 

##  **John/Deputy: You Look Like I Need a Drink Right Now**

* * *

Nicolette came back to the land of the mentally aware like she was surfacing from an iced over ocean. Everything hurt, her heart was pounding, her lungs were burning and desperate to take in a full breath. Ocean of pain came to mind, but she doubted John meant it in that sense.

_Three times._

She had gone under that trance with that fucking song Jacob played three times now, and it had been the worst, before and after the fact. The first time it had happened, Jacob had given her the lowdown on how things were going to go down and she had woken up to the slaughter unaware she was it’s orchestrator. The second time, she learned how far up shits creek Staci was, her heart had shattered, and she was painstakingly aware of every death in the trials and the bloodbath when Jacob set her free. This time, Staci had tried to free her, failed, and the adrenaline had manifested itself into a longer window to kill, and she had gone through three times the bodies than the last time. And now she had a sinking feeling she had to stay away from Eli at all costs.

She had come up free from the song or her vision being dotted red or the chanting in her head in her _and_ Jacob’s voice: _kill, cull, sacrifice._

It was almost a relief that she finally recognized her surroundings once she crossed a fence and saw a couple of Adirondack chairs next to a fire pit.

She didn’t know how the Hell she had made it three quarters across the county in one fell swoop, but she didn’t have it in her to care.

The more important fact was that if she went berserk again, only Peggies _and John_ would pay in blood.

Her body thrummed in pain again, and she got an extremely stupid idea.

The execution of the idea was going to undoubtedly backfire. if John heard about it he’d have another fucking fairytale to quote. There was a good chance she was going to get caught, but damn it, she needed seclusion to come down from the bloodlust, and there was a solid chance no one was around, considering John had been called to Joseph’s island the other day, if the Resistance reports were correct. She headed deeper into the grounds, started up the nearest ladder, picked a window, broke it, unlocked it and opened it, then slipped inside.

She had expected to meet floor when she landed, but her feet made contact on something cushioned to the point where her ankle gave way and she collapsed into it.

She had landed on a bed, and if the interior design was anything to go off of, it was John’s room. She would just happened to land _in his fucking bed_. God, what the Hell would Addie say if that particular detail came out?

Still, the bed was infuriatingly comfortable (would John settle for less?) and everything in her body still hurt. The plan had been finding a decent chair and passing out and sleeping the whole thing off, so what difference would his bed make? He wasn’t around, he probably got possessive and told his people not to go in his room, if her luck continued the way it had been going he’d show up and catch her but just take a fucking picture of her in it, show it to people and make up some risque rumor that would be easy to contest.

It really was Goldilocks and the Three Bears from Hell. _The Deputy and the Psychopath_.

Still, the second she sunk further into the bed by accident (the fact that his bed was so comfortable was the least surprising thing yet but so, _so_ unfair), sleep nearly immediately called her, and she started to let herself slip into it when the door to the room swung open.

She was immediately wide awake again, if only for a moment. She drew her pistol and fired at the door, but exhaustion hit her again, so she barely knew what she was aiming at, and her aim was off to begin with. She felt _the little shit_ ’s presence, though. She squeezed her eyes shut. “Did I miss anything?” she called.

“The  _whiskey_ , thank God.”

She cracked one open to see John in the doorway, blinking at a whiskey bottle he was holding up at chest level. There was a bullethole in the doorframe, just an inch or so below the bottom of the bottle. She looked back at him, and even in her haze, she could tell something was majorly off about him. He looked disheveled, his clothes were a mess, his usual pristine hair was falling into his eyes- he looked like an entirely different person. She was so taken aback that she had nearly missed his particular sentiment.“That’s blasphemous,” she pointed out.

 _“You’re_  blasphemous.” he countered. First, he wasn’t exactly reacting to her presence outside of that response. He was just setting her with a strange look. And then he didn’t seem to be standing up straight, more like wobbling on his feet. His eyes seemed equally unfocused.He looked her up and down before he glanced accusingly at the bottle. “Hallucinations of fantasies, that’s a new one.”

That was enough to sober her a bit. Really, hearing _that_ did nothing to settle the unease that if Sharky and Addie had thought something was… _there_ between them, _John_ probably did too.  “I’m here.”

He blinked at her, then crossed the room to stop directly in front of her.

She glanced up at him and frowned when he poked her in the chest, as if still not believing her words. And then the rest of her brain put all the context clues together. “Are you _drunk_?” She knew the answer, but she was damn well curious what he'd have to say about it. 

John lifted the bottle she had nearly shot, and then she realized he had been holding two- one of which was _empty_.

 _Shit._ She had picked a fine day to crash at his place. She wondered what had happened to get him that lost in the vice. The ‘oregano’ a floor down was one thing. This was another.

“Very astute, Deputy. What’re you gonna do, arrest me for being drunk and disorderly? Is that your secret plan for getting all of us? Minor charges?” his words were heavier and just slightly slurred than usual.

She almost envied him in the fact that he could apparently put so much booze away and just have slightly slurred words, slightly affected motor function but still manage to string words together properly. Then again, it was _him_ as far as the latter went, and she had heard he was a partier back in the day. Of course he’d be one of the lucky ones that could handle liquor well and badly all at once.  “If that’s what it takes,” she countered. Some part of the back of her mind, the same that had realized he was drunk reminded her that his current predicament had just gift-wrapped an opportunity for her, and she raised the pistol again.

It would’ve been a direct shot to his chest if her aim had been unaffected by her own tiredness, the gun hadn’t been empty, and John hadn’t still had most of his motor functions intact. He had seen her react just in time to disarm her, one hand on her wrist, the other twisting the gun away. He tossed the gun over his shoulder, apparently oblivious to the fact that he could’ve made it go off if the pair of them weren’t so fucking unlucky.

“You know, Goldilocks never resorted to murder,” John pointed out.

She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or slug him for seeing the correlation just like she expected him to. “Your bed isn’t ‘just right’ either.”

“I’ve never had a complaint yet. You might be surprised.”  

She scoffed. That was almost as bad as the innuendo behind _‘if those walls could scream_.’ “You know for someone who preaches about not sinning, you sure do a Hell of a lot of it.”

“And I’ve atoned for it. That’s a lot more than you can say.”

“Yeah, well, feeling remorse about it and getting it forcibly tattooed on your skin and then getting it filleted off are two different things.”

John advanced on her. “Why do you fight me?”

“I literally just told you why,” she replied half joking, but the humor died quickly when she thought about the whole situation. The sentiment was nothing like the first time she had heard his “don’t fight it” request. Why the Hell was this different? Why the Hell did he sound so desperate? What the Hell had gone on since they had mocked each other over the radio a week ago? She had seen him dangerous but even with the weak banter there was something in his eyes that made him look more lethal. She needed to get him down from that edge for the entire fucking county’s sake. She rose to her feet, grateful that his intrusion had gotten some of her adrenaline back up so she was almost functioning normally. “John, what the fuck happened?”

“ _You did._ ”

She flinched at the venom in the statement, even as he wobbled on his feet. Somehow that had been the worst thing he had said- not from content, but context. Somehow trying to get him off the edge had made it worse. What was that line from that movie? ‘ _Here we are, on the raggedy edge. Don’t push me, and I won’t push you._ ’ And by God, she had _pushed_. It had been a line that came to mind frequently with the pair of them, because it fit. She knew what he was about, and he her. There was a cat and mouse game between them whether she liked to admit it or not, but the trick was keeping the board even and not tipped to one side. The weird part was that he seemed to respect an even playing field as much as she did. What the Hell had changed to gain that response?

He scoffed after a while of silence. “You don’t even know. You don’t know what you put me through. What I put myself through because of you. I just want to make Joseph proud, and you steal that from me all the time. And yet here we are, time and time again. I beg you to say yes, and you refuse. And I let you. Always giving. I’m a failure in Joseph’s because of you.” His hands tightened on her arms. “Why don’t I kill you? Why do I allow it? I should hate you. But I don’t.  _I don’t.”_

She should’ve kneed him where it counted and run. She knew that, and still, something compelled her to stay. He was talking at her like usual, and she was admittedly a little intrigued at what liquor was allowing him to voice. All of the curiosity suddenly died in one fell swoop when his hands tightened again and she had to go onto her toes to keep from lifting off the ground, and suddenly she was thirteen again, in her living room about to get tossed around by her father for daring to challenge him when he raised a hand to her mother. A flash of anger popped up before the fear. It was a common combination back then. Her heart sunk when John seemed to read the fear, and it was enough to snap her out of the memory. She had fucked up. She had given him what he wanted every single time they met.

He lashed out again, choosing to grip her jaw this time around. It wasn’t lost on her that he held her more loosely than before. That old saying was “a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma” and John was its embodiment. She just knew it was next to impossible to understand him. And she did to a point, which had started to concern her, especially now. She finally made eye contact with him, and his eyes locked on hers in turn.

It was that same paralyzing look he had given her so many times where he was trying to see into her very soul. In this particular case he was searching for something, but she was sure the booze wasn’t helping. His hand suddenly slid down to her throat and squeezed, and the look he had given her the second before he shoved her underwater during the ‘Baptism Fiasco’ as she called it came to mind. She really, really needed to have a long soul search of her own about just how easily she could read him. Even with that particular realization, she got better footing on the floor and got ready to pounce if necessary. Learning how he fought drunk was going to be an interesting change, though. Even with that particular realization, she got better footing on the floor and got ready to pounce if necessary. Learning how he fought drunk was going to be an interesting change, though.

She hadn’t expected him to immediately release her and press his forehead to hers. She had to catch him by the arms to keep him upright.

“You’re still here. You’re still Wrath,” he murmured.

He sounded relieved and lost all at once. What the fuck was this rollercoaster? She knew girls in college who didn’t visit every single emotion during nights out like he was. Still, something in his expression nearly compelled her to touch him, try and get him off that ledge he was still teetering on. It took her a moment to realize she failed in resisting and touched his jaw for a second and he inhaled sharply and leaned into it. Sure, she needed to unpack that reaction later too, but it had apparently gotten him down from that particular edge.

He was off the edge on his own accord, apparently. “Joseph, Jacob, Faith… they don’t understand me. Don’t understand my wrath. How it’s a useful sin. But you do, don’t you?” he went on.

Moment thankfully ruined, she scoffed and let her hand drop. She felt him drift even closer to she put her hands between them to allow as much space as possible. “I’m not having this conversation with you when you’re drunk and I’m sober.”  

John lifted the bottle of whiskey and gave her a pointed look.

She sighed heavily and took it. She knew he wasn’t going to let her walk out without hearing him out- if he let her walk out at all. At least she had a weapon if worse came to worse. So drinking with the enemy it was. She wondered if he knew he had given her such an opportunity. And then it hit her- why wasn’t she taking the chance? Why was she entertaining the fucking draw to each other they had? She stopped. No, the questions were exactly why she accepted the bottle in the first place. She took a giant pull from the bottle, almost to make a point- to him or herself, she wasn’t sure. She almost choked for her trouble. It was far stronger than she expected it to be. No wonder John was a mess- well, more of a mess than usual.

John watched her. “You understand that.I saw it in your eyes in the bunker. You know what it’s like to have it _rule_ you. You know how to use it. We’re the same.”

“No, we’re not.”

John sighed. “Why do you understand so much and yet so little?” John demanded.

“Because I don’t run around torturing people for a cause! I don’t follow a fucking prophet who claims to hear the voice of God when his solution to everything is violence and pain-”

“Take that away, Deputy. What do you have left? Anger and rage. And you use it, because that’s what you do. It’s what  _we_  do. It’s how we function.”

She didn’t know how well arguing with him in this state would be. But again, he was right. The second he had said it, grinning all the while. It had driven her. She had slammed into the door separating them three times til she realized he had only given her the option to run. And live. He could’ve killed you, something pointed out. She took another swig from the bottle. “I thought yours was Sloth,” she mused, glancing at the scarred over tattoo on his chest. “That’s where the main one is supposed to go, right? That’s where you tried to mark me.”

“That was John Duncan’s,” John corrected. “It’s Wrath now. We’re the Wrathful Two.”

She had no idea what the ‘Duncan’ part meant.. Something from that abusive childhood he had mentioned, most likely.

It was apparently his turn to touch her face, and when she turned away, he held firm again. “He could’ve taken you from me…” he said after a few moments.

“Who?” she asked, surprised that she was genuinely trying to keep up with all of his tangents because she  _wanted to know._

“Jacob,” John answered.

She even flinched at his name, now. She wasn’t sure whether to feel worse or laugh when he actually pet her hair once he noticed the shudder.

I never told you about Jacob during your little escape, did I? I just told you about Faith. I never told you only one in twenty survive his… interference. I never told you he unmakes the poor bastards who wander too far into his territory…” he went on. “Jacob thinks finding common ground with the enemy is a weakness. Thinks  _I’m_  weak.”

 _‘You’re weak_ ’, she could hear Jacob in her head. ‘ _Be stronger. The strong survive.'_  She couldn’t help the whimper that left her out of sheer habit and instinct. “Don’t…”

“You’re stronger than him. He doesn’t like that,” John cut her off. “I’m not letting him take you from me.”

Whatever the trance the first part had practically put her in was, the last part broke it. “I’m not dealing with creepy possessive bullshit when you’re drunk off your ass. The nickname’s Rook- that’s as far as it goes. I’m not some chess piece for you four to fight over and claim just so you can have the fucking honor of killing-”

“You still don’t understand,” John snapped.

“What the fuck am I supposed to understand?!” she demanded. “You make no sense sober _or_ drunk and-”

He swooped down so quickly she had thought he had passed out, but then she was effectively crowded against the wall, her face was cradled in his hands, and his lips were on hers.

The kiss was sloppy for a couple of moments til their noses slotted together the right way; and she took a little too much pride in the fact that she got to see him fuck that particular thing up. Some part of her let herself fall into it because _this_ had been a long time coming. The constant suggestive shit he drawled at her was getting old, and he was annoyingly pretty and admittedly her type, and they did have that thing everyone seemed to notice. She had managed to get her heel around his calf and opened her mouth to let her tongue meet his when he sought entrance when she finally came to her senses and shoved him away- or had hoped she had shoved, but it ended up more a gentle push. She was genuinely surprised when he didn’t fight her and just looked wounded.  She inhaled sharply, licked her lips ( _damn it)_  and then put her pointer finger up in his face, daring him not to give her the minute she requested. She proceeded to chug from the bottle of whiskey for a while. She had been on the receiving end of enough kisses from emotional disasters to realize there was more than just the lust she expected from him in there. It was something else entirely and she wasn't ready to process it.  _‘Have you ever considered he’s maybe in some sort of love with you?’_  Addie had claimed a little while back. It had been a fucking joke as far as she was concerned. He hardly seemed capable of it. But between  _that_  kiss and what he was saying… _fuck_. This was the biggest mess she had stepped in yet.

John’s chest heaved- from the kiss or whatever he was about to say, she wasn’t sure. He stepped forward again.

She was convinced he was going to try to kiss her again and braced herself accordingly until he veered off to the side enough to tuck his head into her shoulder. Great, he’s a clingy drunk too.

“I’m not here to _possess_ you. I already told you I can’t kill you. I  _need_  you, Deputy. That’s the problem. I lose you, I lose the only one who understands me, even if you don’t understand everything else. That’s the fucking problem.”

“So what’re you gonna do?” Nicolette asked.

“I don’t know. God help me, I don’t know.”

She scoffed. “God stopped listening to all of us a while ago, pal.”

John hummed in agreement after a beat. He walked over to the bed and dropped onto it.  “I am tired of all this.”

“I’m not going to stop until I stop your brother," she pointed out.

“I know…” he trailed off.

She glanced over at him to see that his eyelids were already getting heavy. She scoffed, then froze. Here was another fucking opportunity that she was missing. She sidled closer to him. His breathing had already slowed. She sidled closer to try to find the edge of that leather cord he wore the bunker key on.

The bastard wasn’t wearing it for once.

“Fuck…” she pulled back, only to freeze when he suddenly reached out and took hold of her wrist.  _Shit, shit, shhhiiiiiit-_

_“Stay.”_

It sounded so off she had a hard time believing John had even said it, but of his eyes was cracked open. “Now why would I do that?” she asked. 

“Because Jacob’s coming to the Valley today and this is the last place he’s going to expect you, and this conversation isn’t over. And I’m not the only one who needs to sleep for a while.”

“… Fine,” she agreed after a while. Maybe it was the booze already, maybe it was the fact that he had a point about Jacob- she didn’t know why she believed him about his brother, but she did. And she really didn’t want Joseph to find out that she was the one who was around if the man died in his sleep from choking on his own vomit if alcohol poisoning kicked in and he got sick laying face up. Not that John didn’t _deserve_ it.

She glanced behind her at the chair that was one window over from the one she had come in through and made a mental note to remember which it was before she dropped into it. After a few second she heard John’s breathing get louder and even and figured he was fully asleep then. She glanced around, got up to cross the room and lock the bedroom door just in case, retrieved some heavy looking replica of scales- Scales of Justice, the arrogant prick, she realized- then went back to the chair and curled up, nearly insulted at how she nearly immediately fell asleep herself, but she couldn’t fight off the tiredness if she tried.

* * *

 

When she woke, however, she found John sitting up, staring at her, looking like he was ready to lunge if attacked, waiting for  _anything._

They stared and stared and stared.

Nicolette got sick of the silence. “So… do you remember anything from last night or should I just bail out the window now?”

“I remember…” John said after a moment.

She nodded. “How’s your head?”

“Fine.”

“Alright, Johnny Boy. You wanna talk, talk.”

She had expected it to be a long-winded run-around all the way back to trying to get her to atone. Another plea to say yes. If he did remember everything from the previous day, she didn’t know what he hoped to accomplish.

Still, she was intrigued- another problem she had when it came to her relationship with him- if she could even call it that.

Her time there would be a lot less interesting though. Maybe she needed a little bit of that in her life.

She nearly laughed.

Need and him, nearly in the same sentence. The feeling was accidentally fucking _mutual_.

Well, wasn’t that  _fucking something?_


	2. John/Female Deputy: How We Operate

## 

**Prompt:** John/Nic, "Tell Me I'm Wrong", combined with a friend asking to fic-ify that one time I was in the final fight with John and a bear came along and killed him before I could. Minus the dying.   
**Rating:** T **  
****Pairing:** John/Deputy **  
Summary:** In which a bear interrupts John and the Deputy’s final confrontation, and their escape forces them to talk things out with unexpected results. 

##  **John/Deputy Nic: How We Operate**

* * *

 

>   
>  _The way that we’ve been speaking now I swear_  
>  That we’d be friends, I swear  
>  ‘Cos all these little deals go down with little consequences,  
>   We share, we share  
>  Turn me inside out and upside down and try to see things my way  
>  Turn a new page, tear the old one out and I’ll try to see things your way  
>  And I’m gonna love you anyway  
>  _“How We Operate” - Gomez_

* * *

Nicolette cried out as she hit the ground hard. It was just like the Universe to have her slip on the wing of the plane she had stolen from John’s ranch to pursue him after the showdown at the church. The dogfight had been brutal, but then somehow, some way something had gone wrong in John’s plane and he was forced to bail, and she followed. Because nothing added to what was going to be a Hell of a fight like another fucking injury. She rolled to her feet and got up. She tested her footing, and finding it passable, drew her magnum and started walking. She had seen John go down a couple of hundred feet away. By the looks of it, there were a couple of hills separating them. “Right… you can do this…” she hissed to herself.

She started up one hill, and before long, some of the pain thankfully started ebbing away. She continued on, only to stop short at the base of the hill when she heard John’s voice in the distance, no more than a hundred feet away:

“Wha-  ** _A BEAR_**?!”

She scoffed and quickened her pace. “Gotta do better than that, John!” she called as she made her way up the final hill. However, all of her own arrogance immediately faded when she saw the sight to behold.

John had most certainly  _not_ been lying, if the grizzly bear charging him had been any indication. He was tearing in her direction, half hobbling from the damage he had taken in the fight.

Some absurd part of the back of her mind risked a closer look at the bear’s neck, wondering if it was Cheeseburger, but no, there was no collar- this one was wild- and apparently  _very, very_  angry. And headed straight for them.

“MOVE IT, DEPUTY!” John barked as he passed her.

She didn’t have to be told twice- she just wondered why she _had been told_ in the first place. She growled, took a couple of steps backward, pointed the gun at the grizzly’s head and fired-

And the gun just _clicked_.

She was out of rounds- they were all gone from the church confrontation, and she had been so hyped up on adrenaline that she didn’t even notice. “Fuck!” she tossed the gun at the grizzly as some last ditch effort of distraction. Of course, there was enough distance between her and the bear that it landed before it- and the grizzly merely ran straight over it. “FUCK!” she repeated before she promptly turned on her heel and took off after John. Sure, they seemed to be at a stalemate for this, but there was no way she was going to lose him in the process. When John took a sharp right after one particular clearing, she nearly had to dive to course correct to match him, but when she recognized the Doverspike Compound, she had a vague idea of where he was headed.

There was a crash from behind her followed by an ear-splitting roar, the bear apparently determined to remind them it was close. Too close. She made it into another clearing, and sure enough, John was just ahead, climbing up the ladder into the hunter’s nest. She inhaled sharply before following directly. Again, because nothing says guaranteed death after two different near death experiences like getting in a place that was high up with the guy who was just trying to kill you. She had made it up and two thirds over the landing into the nest. She let out an indignant little squawk when John popped up from deeper into the nest and hauled her the rest of the way up by the back of her shirt.

The fact that the bear proceeded to roar and slam into the ladder was a decent deterrent about the fact that she had landed half on top of him.

There was another creak, and then suddenly, the ladder itself peeled away from the wood and promptly fell away from the edge of the nest and to the ground below.  

Apparently the Universe had a fucked up sense of humor on top of hating her guts.  

She merely flinched when the entire structure shook, the bear still apparently Hell bent on trying to bring the whole thing down. She was grateful that the metal supports were probably sturdier than the ladder.  _Most likely. Shit._

There was a low roar behind them. Apparently the ladder has missed the bear, too. What was that? Universe 3, Nic 0? No, it was Universe 1000 by now.

With as much effort as she could muster, she kicked weakly at the fold-up chair leaning on the corner of the nest and sent it over the edge to try and hit the bear.

If the angry sound that followed was any indication, it hit its mark but didn’t deter it.

John grunted before doing the same with the other chair nearest him. It made contact and the bear made another distressed noise- but apparently left the immediate area.

She groaned in relief and let her head fall to the side until she realized she had flopped down right into his chest. She went to move again and not give him the satisfaction, but every inch of her body throbbed in protest. The only comfort was that he sounded as hurt and winded as she did. He probably didn’t have the energy to find the satisfaction. “I barely… hit you. How’re you that hurt?” she forced out. Anything to keep this normal, to draw attention away from the fact that this was far too intimate.

“Plane stalled, banked to hard when you tried to herd me… int’… the mountain. And you did manage to get a graze in,” he countered, lifting his shirt to show a bloodied spot along one rib.

“I missed,” she deadpanned.

He grimaced and let out a chuckle that was more wheeze than anything.

She eased off of his chest a little bit, and she was immediately torn about why she had done it in order to help him breathe, considering they had just been _trying to kill each other in a dogfight_.

The fact that the action brought the Yes sign entirely into view made the whole situation more surreal. Here they were, at the end of the line of their conflict, staring up at the hundred-foot embodiment of what had started their game of cat and mouse. There was no way to imagine that their confrontation would lead to this, though. Even now, the fact that they were laying in comfortable silence was something- granted they both felt half dead, but it was still a little more welcome than it should’ve been. Just thinking about the scenario made her imagination go a bit wild. In that exact moment, it should’ve been some Guardians of the Galaxy bullshit- the pair of them laid out, shoulder to shoulder but trying to land hits on each other, not huddled together, staring up at that fucking sign like it held all the answers. After a moment she realized that was spot on for him- that three letter word had been the answer for everything. Of course he would be seeking the truth from its physical imitation. 

They were silent for a while. For once, she was the one to break it. “Y’know… ya could’ve let the bear get me.”

“Death by bear isn’t the way for Wrath to go. Maybe Gluttony, Sloth. Not Wrath.  _Not you_.”

“Should I be flattered… ‘bout that conclusion?”  

“If you’d like to be,” John countered.

Silence passed again. 

After a while, John laughed bitterly, and she was torn when she realized she was relieved it sounded less strangled- less like his lung had collapsed.

“You don’t even realize how much trouble you were, do you?” he asked.

“  _‘Were’_?”

The humor on his face immediately faded. “You'll never atone. I  _failed_. I failed my most important task. I failed  _Joseph_ … I’m done. Eden’s Gates are closed to me.”

“He wouldn’t do that to you. He loves you.” Why the Hell was she reassuring the fucking psychopath who had put her through Hell?

“Does he?” John asked. “You and your people call him a liar. What’s so different between the lines he preaches and the bullshit he leaves on a voicemail?” he gave her a pointed look.

“I only checked it because I thought you’d have messages that gave some leads on outposts or something,” she argued.

“It’s a sin to tell a lie,” John countered.

“… Do you have any other music interests or are you just stuck in the 40s and 50s forever with that?”

“Joseph was a Vera Lynn fan.”

It was finally her turn to laugh. “Of course he is. He’s just that fucking weird. I bet that shit was just wholesome enough for the Voice.”

John’s third answering scoff was answer enough. He waited a while before speaking again. “I never hated you, you know.”

“Oh, quit talking like you’re dying. I grazed you, and it looks like I didn’t even hit your ear back at the church. Knowing you, you’ll survive on spite alone, you big baby,” Nicolette objected.

“Can’t operate on spite if there’s none to be had here anymore.”

She snorted. “Well, you changed your standing on this mess quickly.”

“When it comes to Joseph and the Voice, maybe. Not when it comes to the state of the world. We  _are_ on the brink of destruction, Deputy.”

“Oh, please…” she rolled her eyes, then jumped when John lashed out in order to grab her wrist and yank her so they were chest to chest.

John stared at her the same way they had been literally face to face- eyes wide- nearly unblinking, and so hypnotizing she couldn’t look away, and wouldn’t if she tried.

“I’ve seen doubt cloud your eyes. Look at the headlines, look who’s in charge. Don’t lie to me. Don’t tell me you haven’t had those thoughts in your head that we’re headed for destruction.”

“John…” she forced out.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he cut her off.

She opened her mouth, then shut it. He _wasn’t wrong_. And that killed her. Sure, who the Hell hadn’t thought about that the last couple of years but filed it away in favor of some other, more optimistic scenario? Even with that considered, Joseph’s theories were a stretch- bliss dreams that felt too real or not.

John sighed at the hesitation. He crept forward and pressed his forehead to hers.

The show of the biggest amount of affection for him and his family froze her in place.

“I need you to  _understand_. I need you to  _believe_ ,” he insisted.

“I do. Not… _entirely_ , but I get it. The  _why’s,_  anyway. The how’s? Not a chance. Killing people, culling the herd, forcing people into your beliefs… that’s not the way to go about trying to remedy it.”

“We had a plan ‘til you came along," John insisted. 

“It was a shitty plan.”

“What would you have done?” John countered, tone implying he hardly wanted the answer.

“Rescue as many people as possible, no questions asked. No killing, culling, brainwashing, no forcing. Waited for the people who knew what they were doing to do something about it. What  _normal people_  would’ve done.”

The sentiment was enough to have him pull back and give her a skeptical look.

“Yeah, yeah. Would’ve ended up ‘your country made a promise but you can’t trust a liar’, right? Still would’ve been some citizens that would’ve done it. There are good people out there. Maybe if you’d stop trying to kill everyone who doesn’t see things your way you’d find them.” She wanted to laugh when John looked lost for a moment- like that had been the very first moment that conclusion had actually occurred to him. Then again, he had known nothing but pain and violence his whole life, no matter how many times he accused her of the same. It was a  _very real_  possibility that he hadn’t thought about it. He was just blindly following one of the only people who ever gave a shit about him. He had been going off what a Voice in his brother’s head was claiming. Or maybe it was the fact that she was the most obvious example of her own damned point, even if she technically was part of ‘the country’ when it came down to her job.

His lost look faded after a moment, and he gave her that soul-studying look he had during their first encounter in the bunker- the one that she had nearly sassed him for staring at her tits too long until she got the vibe that he was looking  _into_  her, reading her very soul and figuring out just what made her heart tick, how she operated and  _why._  It was even more unsettling the second time around. 

“You really do want to save them as much as we do,” John mused. 

“From you lot or the hypothetical end of the world, yeah.” She squirmed under his gaze after a few seconds, then blinked when he suddenly released her wrist, reached up to close his fist around his bunker key and lifted it off his neck. He slipped it over her head without further hesitation.

She watched him carefully, more so when he kept the key clenched in his fist, hovering over the tattoo he had forced on her hours ago. His eyes flicked to hers for a moment- another perfect mirror of the first soul search- the brief eye contact, laying barely a foot apart from each other- _eyes are the windows to the soul_ , she recalled in that moment. That was  _exactly_ what he had thought he was doing back then. And now, _that_  was the moment that stopped time between them.

And then there was the feel of the clasp of the necklace’s leather cord tugging at the back of her neck and the cord itself digging into the sides of her neck, his knuckles brushed her throat and his lips were on hers, hard and insistent but  _good._

She wanted to think about how far had she fallen in all this that it only took her a moment to welcome it and return it. Then again, she could unpack that particular reaction later. This whole thing had turned out very differently than she had expected it to. Addie was going to have a fit if she heard about this.

The kiss was over quickly and John pulled back to press his forehead against hers again. “Take it. My people are yours, now. A few words from me and they won’t fight you. Take care of them.”

Her heart clenched at that. Fucking _sympathy for the Devil,_  she knew, but the conversation had revealed that the man at least apparently genuinely thought he was helping people, psychotic way of thinking or not. “You’re not out of the game yet, John.”

“Joseph’ll make it clear that I am.”

“Then come with me,” she said, before she had even realized the gravity of the offer. Of course, she did the second she had spoken, and the risks outweighed the positives tenfold. He was still the brother of the enemy. He was still as unstable as they came. He had killed and tortured most of his end of the county.But the Resistance had done damage too, and if they couldn’t find it in them to work around a complication, they were no better than the Peggies. She couldn’t trust him. Not yet. But there was a chance that peace could make things work, and she’d go for it.

John scoffed again. “That’ll work out as well as me getting back into Joseph’s good graces will go.”

“Yeah, well, at least Hell will be a lot more fun than Eden.”

“Your people won’t take kindly to me.”

“No, they won’t. But if you try, maybe they’ll warm up to you if you get your shit together and help us…” she suddenly grew the courage to smirk at him. “Consider it your  _Atonement_.”

John stared at her for a while, and then the pair stopped short when they heard a vehicle approaching.

They exchanged looks and helped each other up with a great deal of difficulty, staying low just in case.

Nicolette saw that it was Addie’s truck headed up the path. “It’s one of my people. She’ll figure something out to get us down,” she reported, and turned to John, even as he tensed. “So, John. What do you say?”

He offered her a matching challenging smile, then glanced over his shoulder at his sign, mocking  and encouraging him all at once. He turned back to her.

**“Yes.”**


	3. John/Female Deputy: Problem

Prompt: John/Nic, "kiss me."   
Rating: T  
Pairing: John/Female Deputy, background Male Deputy/Staci

**John/Deputy Nic: Problem**

* * *

_Sweat dripping down your chest_  
_Thinking ‘bout your tattooed knuckles on my thigh boy_  
_You got no power to control how I make you my toy_  
  
_Don’t you wanna claim my body like a vandal?_  
  
_We’re hell raising and we don’t need saving_  
_‘Cause there’s no salvation for a bad girl_  
_We’re hell raising and we don’t need saving_  
_‘Cause there’s no salvation for a bad boy_  
_We’re rock bottom but there ain’t no stopping_  
_‘Cause its you and me against the world_

 _I’m your dream girl this is real love_  
_But you know what they say about me…_  
_That girl is a problem_  
  
_\- Natalia Kills, Problem_

* * *

 

“Kiss me.”

Out of everything he’d heard or imagined he’d hear Deputy Nicolette Raylan say directed at him, John Seed had most definitely not expected  ** _that_**.

Three weeks ago, she had  _spared his life_.

“Nic n’ Nick” as they had been so affectionately nicknamed lately had taken out Affirmation’s wings in a dogfight after his and the Deputy’s showdown in the church, he had barely managed to get out of the damn plane before he had crashed, and Nicolette had chased him down in the woods.

Wholly convinced he was dying from the injuries he had gotten in the fight, he had worn his heart on his sleeve and given her one final plea to see things his family’s way. She had refused, as she always did. And then he figured it was safe to assume his bloodloss was affecting his brain, because he was suddenly determined to let his last act on Earth be _tasting the object of his lust over the last few months_. He had yanked her down with the last of his strength and kissed her- part to die having his curiosity sated, part to stun her and have the last word.

She had reared back and slapped him, and how he had laughed. He settled for telling her he wished God had mercy on her soul.

A few seconds later, just when he thought he was finally, _finally_ fading, he was vaguely aware of being lifted off the ground.

“For the record, you asshole, _this_ isn’t over _that_ , this is to prove a point to your fucking demon of a brother.”

If he had the strength, he probably would’ve laughed again.

* * *

Days later, he had woken up in one of the last remaining doctor’s clinics in the valley,clearly not dead _nor dying_.

Even in his subsequent haze, he realized he owed her a life debt.

And something clicked inside of him then. What kind of sinner would allow for events to happen that would put him in that position?

_What kind of sinner would let him **live**?_

Before he could focus too much on it, he had faded back into unconsciousness.

* * *

It had been another few days before Nicolette had shown up in the clinic. She had sat on the bed beside him, hip to hip, leaned over, gripped his jaw, and gave him an offer: give them any information they needed without question, without hesitation, without any games and she’d keep him ‘the rough equivalent of a high ranking political prisoner’, or she’d feed him to Peaches and Cheeseburger- whatever the Hell that meant. It sounded absurd, but the way the doctor had looked at her, it was serious business, so he had agreed.

And he had followed through days after that. He had given them everything they wanted to know- cult outposts, shrines, truck routes- anything they asked, he gave. They had bested him, and he respected an even playing field. They had _earned it_. And even if they hadn’t, even if they gained victories, the Collapse was still coming. Joseph would prevail, and war games would mean nothing.

But then there was the fact that he’d consider that and then realize that meant _losing the Deputy_.

It was another thing to hate her for, if he could even bring himself to do so, truth be told. There was a strange admiration that went beyond the cursed lust that she held over him. Even if it happened when he was half dead, that kiss had been enough to haunt him even then.  

So he had played nicely to try to gain her favor.

To his own surprise, she had kept her end of the deal. While they kept him in one of the larger animal cages they had scrounged up from somewhere,  he could walk around so long as he had an escort. They fed him and gave him enough water. The Sheriff had been by and mentioned something about striving to be the ‘far more humane ones in this county’- the problem with sinners who saw themselves as merciful, John supposed. Idiots. The only ones who seemed reasonably suspicious and would always reach for a weapon any time he roamed near him were the two other deputies, Pratt and Lyons, who had been taken by Jacob when they had first arrived. That fact alone spoke volumes as to why they were the smartest ones in the bunch aside from her.

And that led them to the present. That night had apparently been a special one. They had broken their three-freed-outposts-in-a-day record, and they were all partying accordingly. They all seemed perfectly happy at the outpost, chatting away and all smiles.

Even Nicolette was in enough good spirits enough to volunteer as his escort for the night. Usually any time he’d request her, she’d drop by to tell him just where he could shove his request. This time, she had sighed deeply, said yes, and nodded at him to follow her. A foolish move: far too kind, far too trusting.

Even before she had spared his life, Nicolette was by far the most compelling sinner he’d met. Over the short time she had been in the county he had learned she was as nauseatingly _good_ as she was lethal. Despite her cunning, there was a bright innocence to her, unmarked by everything including the damned sinners littering the county. He could exploit that innocence if he was a worse man, but he could never- _would_ never. He had seen the same qualities in Deputy Pratt and Deputy Lyons during their first encounter before the police chopper had been taken down, but Jacob had snuffed it out in both of them. John would rather die than bring any of her spirit to ruin. And he _ached_ that part of him assumed it would come to that.

He had studied the two other deputies briefly during the first bit of their walk. They looked content with everybody, and despite the smiles, he knew it was all an act. It was the perfect opposite of how he knew they were most of the time now. He had heard enough stories that came from Jacob’s territory that proved that they were anything but genuinely happy. They were two broken souls.

Pratt was a mess, through and through. Too weak for Jacob, too weak for _anyone_. He suffered and it showed.

Lyons was… _different_ for many reasons. When John first set eyes on Lyons, he had assumed he would be the biggest threat of the entire group of deputies. He was tall, bulky but muscular- the picture of power. He was a military man- strong physically and mentally. Jacob had pulled him out of the helicopter with such a predatory look that John himself had been unnerved.

But worse yet- he was fairly sure that Lyons was in love with _his_ Deputy. And it might have even been returned, if the looks they shared were any indication.

He had been at the outpost that they had chosen to take Lyons to once they found him at the Grand View Hotel, undid the conditioning, and freed him. Lyons had put on a brave face for five days, but on the sixth John had been the only one awake to see the pair of them huddled by a fire in the early hours of the morning, and it was then that the man had _broken_ and sobbed into Nicolette’s shoulder, and she had held him until he had stopped, murmuring things he hadn’t heard from his distance away.

The memory was enough to send envy coursing through his veins again. Why was it that she awoke so much sin in him? What luck to be able to do that to her, with her. There was such an ease about them, and it was allowed.  He’d wring the bastard’s neck or bleed him dry if it wouldn’t jeopardize his standing with Nicolette- what limited standing it was. Respect, albeit begrudgingly, was respect, after all.  He settled for imagining it, and snarled at the opportunity he probably should’ve taken anyway.

He had gotten so lost in the fantasy that he had almost missed Nicolette approach him in the present, take a deep breath and give him that particular request. " _Kiss me_."  It was two simple words, but it had brought all of his thoughts to a screeching halt.

So the fact that Nicolette wasn’t with her people and had come to him with that request- that was something. It was hardly something to be ignored- or gone without being mocked. He refused to be outfoxed, after all. He offered his best grin. “Pardon me, Deputy? The way our first went, I wouldn’t think-”

“Shut the fuck up and do it, we both know you’ve been dying to do it again,” she snapped. Her eyes flicked off to the side, where there were a few partygoers cheering and dancing around another bonfire.

John followed her gaze.

That ultimate redneck inbreed Hurk Junior was walking over like he was on a warpath for her, looking determined but like he was going to throw up at the same time. Oh, he knew that look. Poor bastard thought he had a chance with Lady Death. Something stirred in John’s gut. _Jealousy again_ , he realized.

Hurk approached with such ease, with whatever he desired front and center in his mind. Just like Lyons. And he _hated_ Hurk all the more for it. He could accept losing her to Lyons _eventually_. Lyons was worthy of her, he’d admit. Hurk-   _not remotely worthy_.

His only vote of confidence was that Nicolette was evidently very much not okay with Hurk’s attention.

The Inbreed suddenly slowed down his walk, squared his jaw and puffed out his chest.

Oh, that pathetic show  _would not do_. The Deputy was _his_ , and he wasn’t going to even entertain anyone trying to take her- whether she reciprocated their attention or not.  

John looked back at her, and when he saw that she was still looking at Hurk, half panicked, he took advantage of the moment. He took hold of her hips and yanked them forward to press firmly against his and bent down to kiss her.

Oh, how grateful he was to have his wits entirely intact for it the second time around. He should’ve known that after so many fantasies of this, of the fuzzy memory of the first, the quick show of a peck that he intended wasn’t going to be enough for him. He adjusted his hold on her and lifted her about an inch, just to effectively pin her against the wall opposite the one she had cornered him against in order to deepen the kiss and get closer to her.

This- this was _heavenly_ , as blasphemous as it seemed. If a simple kiss with his sinner, with the supposed Bringer of the Collapse, with Death, awoke so much feeling in him- he’d consider letting Joseph _slam_ Eden’s Gates on him.  It was in that moment that he realized this went far beyond just lust. She was danger, an endlessly deep ocean of mystery and he’d gladly drown.

He leaned into her more and slipped his tongue into her mouth when she inhaled sharply. He had fully expected her to bite down on it- the joke was on her, he would’ve hardly minded- so he was admittedly thrown for a loop when she _didn’t_.

She arched into him, looped an arm around his neck and let out a filthy moan that he would’ve never expected from her in the least. And then, better yet: “Ugn,  ** _yes_** ,  _John_.”

Oh, she played _dirty._  That was new. He ground his hips forward against her in retaliation and he had heard her kind of answering moan from too many previous conquests to know that it was hardly faked.

There was a distant noise of confusion from nearly right beside them. He had  _entirely forgotten_  about Hurk in  _seconds_. It took a moment for John to realize that her reaction had been part of the goddamn show. She was giving as much as she was getting, apparently not at all worried about hurting the lummox’s feelings. He had thought she’d be better than that. That _delighted_ him.

There was another startled cough in the distance that John was fairly sure was Lyons, so delight evolved into  _pride_.

_Such. Sin._

A moment later there was a pressure on his lip and his pride skyrocketed because he realized he was at least onto something when he assumed she’d bite, but it was a nip at his bottom lip and he was lost to her all over again, his world narrowed down to them. No Hurk, no Lyons. Just the Wrathful Two.

He steered her back into the nearest trailer wall, still surprised that no one was shooting him yet. He was still the enemy, still a prisoner, and he was seemingly in control there.

He had half a mind to kill half the Resistance present for being so distracted they were letting a questionable thing happen to his and their precious Deputy. At least Lyons had a reaction- but a minor one at that.

“HEY!” Lyons called, although a bit forced, from his spot a few feet away.

 _There it is_ , John mused.

Still, Nicolette pulled back and he chased her mouth with his for a moment before she dug the heel of her hand into his chest to make a point, and he withdrew but kept his eyes locked on hers, and was fairly impressed she hadn’t looked away yet either. She looked stunned, and that was the best victory of the lot.

Lyons was apparently on an entirely different warpath towards them than Hurk had been if the sound of steady, heavy footsteps on gravel were any indication. John was quite ready to welcome death for a minute until the footsteps were joined by another set and the first stopped abruptly. There was a hushed argument- Lyons and someone who sounded like Adelaide Drubman, and then another shuffle, and then Adelaide apparently dragged Lyons off.

He glanced to the side at their retreating backs, then saw that Hurk had apparently hightailed it out of there. He turned back to Nicolette. “I didn’t take you for a petty person, Deputy. That might’ve been flat out _cruel_. Why didn’t you pick your boyfriend over there for that?” he tried not to grin when she went from still looking stunned to her usual ‘you fuck with me, I’ll fuck with you right back’ grin. He appreciated that she enjoyed their game as much as he did.

“Hurk can’t take a hint- much like yourself. And Lyons isn't my boyfriend.”

“Does  _he_  know that?” John countered.

“ _Jealous_ , John? That’s right up there with  _envy_ ,” she pointed out.

“Among other sins,” he agreed.

“Imagine that, you’re away from Joseph barely a month and you’re embracing multiple sins.”

“It’s your affect on me, Deputy.” Her answering scoff was music to his ears. If only she knew. “You know, now that we’re _friends_ , there are far more interesting ways of getting a very different ‘yes’ out of you.”

She looked up at him, bit her lip and leaned up again. He leaned down, ensnared- and then there was a rough weight at his chest he stumbled back.  It took him a moment to realize she had shoved him away. His heel hit something and he stumbled for a second before he caught himself- and found himself directly back in his cell. He looked around before he looked back towards the open door of the cage. “And now I feel used,” he said, though there was no animosity behind it.

“You were,” she countered.

“That why you’re still breathing so hard?” he asked.

She advanced on him slowly and ran a hand up his chest after a moment, and even if he knew this was part of their fucking game, he felt his chest tighten under her fingers.

She looked up at him and licked her lips for good measure.

He had half a mind to pounce again, but it was her move now. She leaned up so their mouths were barely an inch apart. He inadvertently let out a hitched breath and she grinned. _Fuck._

“You’ve got no right to talk,” she pointed out before she gave him a firm pat on the cheek- funnily enough now another answer to how their first kiss turned out. Still, there was far less animosity behind it. “Goodnight, John.”

“Goodnight, Deputy,” he countered. He watched her leave, eyes lingering on her ass a moment or two extra before he settled in on the cot beside him.

“ _You have to love them, John,_ ” Joseph had said, what felt like ages ago,  _“let love into your heart”_  he had also begged before that. He had doubted he was capable of it, and there was still a healthy dose of lust before it, but there was something in his chest that felt like that emotion that he hadn’t felt since he was a child. He doubted Joseph had meant it that way. He wondered what Joseph would’ve thought at the particular outcome he was coming to. Nothing good, he imagined. He was torn on the matter. 

Nicolette Raylan was a  _goddamn problem_. And yet he hardly wanted a solution.


	4. Gen: Charlemagne's Angels (The Good, 70s Kind)

 

 **Prompt:** "your take on your deputy meeting Sharky, or maybe some random crazy incident with cultists. Just general Sharky shenanigans please" **  
Rating:** T **  
Summary:** After all the shit Deputies Nic and Grant go through, Sharky invites them for a night out on the town. It goes about as well as a night on the town hosted by Sharky could go: Shit’s on fire, John gets a confession, and there’s a giant chunk of the last night missing from their memory. At least one of them wouldn’t have it any other way.  AKA the ficlet that might inspire a The Hangover AU.

##  **Charlemagne’s Angels (The Good, 70′s Kind)**

 

> * * *

“I mean, seeing as y’all helped liberate the place, you should come out for a night. See how we really live it up in Falls End!”

For Deputy Grant Lyons and Nicolette Raylan, Sharky’s invitation for a night out was just what they needed. Their time in Hope County was a bigger clusterfuck than either of them could have anticipated, and after almost dying twice daily for the last week, they needed a fucking break, and a few drinks sounded  _great._

They felt bad that Staci and Joey weren’t there to join them, but they hoped they would do the same in their shoes. So they accepted, and then word got out that they were showing up to party, so nearly every single townsperson had shown up for a drink and to encourage the two deputies to unwind.

Of course, the deputies' idea of unwinding after everything was picking the corner table in the bar, nursing a couple of beers each and watching everyone have fun. They didn’t want to let their guard down, and they had both discussed the possibility that since the rumor that they were going out for the night reached the entire town, it would probably get back to John, and he’d gladly crash the party.

However, by 10pm, the only danger was Sharky nearly elbowing every single person on the dance floor as he did some weird, hilarious combination of the little jumping jig he did when they had first met him, the robot, and naturally, being Sharky, disco moves.

The pair of them were nearly in tears when Sharky stepped on his tenth victim’s toes, jumped back and blubbered a quick apology before getting right back into it.

They had waved and promised to get on the dance floor ‘in a little bit.’ Sharky had taken it upon himself to give them a ten minute limit on 'delaying the fun.' He had come back at the ten minute mark, done a couple of shots and dragged the pair of them onto the dance floor.

They had caved for his sake, danced together for a couple of songs, and then retreated quickly back to their table.

Sharky had drifted back to them one song later, taken another shot and declared, “Shark Attack is on the prowl!”

Grant had gone to ask him ‘for what?’ but Nicolette had grabbed his arm and begged him not to let him finish the sentence- not that they could hear the man finish it, as he had already drifted back into the crowd.

Grant wasn’t surprised when the last part of the sentence turned out to be ‘for women’ if Sharky hanging off of every third girl in the bar minutes later was any indication. He wasn’t sure who to feel worse for, the women or Sharky. He liked the man and considered him a friend- something Grant had very few of. But watching the man in action when all he talked about was his prowess in eating women out, well, it was something. Once he caught a few of the women giving him a pleading look once Sharky was done- with a bit of their own bedroom eyes, he felt even worse.

He wasn’t the only one who noticed, either. Nicolette had spotted a couple of them and full on cackled. “Oh, Grant, you’ve got some admirers…”

“Shut up,” Grant elbowed her.

“The blonde over there is sexy.”

“If you’re into that,” Grant countered.

“Kinda am,” Nicolette replied.

Grant chuckled. “Careful, John’s liable to get jealous.”

“Shut up.”

Grant laughed. “I’m not the one giving the enemy sex eyes every time you’re in a hundred foot radius of each other.”

Nicolette opened her mouth, then shut it firmly and jabbed a finger in his face.

Grant grinned, til he realized what her silence meant. If he heard about any of her trysts before they arrived in Hope County, he’d give her shit about her choice of partner, and she’d respond with something about him pining over Staci. And the good person that she was couldn’t bring herself to mention Staci now, considering he was miles away in Jacob’s clutches. He smiled reassuringly at her and kissed her cheek. To his relief, a couple of Sharky’s victims who had been eyeing him seemed to take that as he and Nicolette were  _together_ , and immediately walked towards the other side of the bar.

Nicolette watched them. “There, you’re welcome.”

The sound of someone being slapped echoed throughout the room and they turned towards it to see a redheaded woman storming away and Sharky holding his cheek that had the visible edges of a bright red handprint on it.

“Oh, Honey…” she sighed.

“You gonna go Legally Blonde him or save him in general?” Grant asked.

“Legally Blonde,” she replied. She rose to her feet, tossed her hair and stuck her chest out- then promptly stopped in her tracks when she noticed the redhead talking to a bulky man who was easily a foot taller than Grant and a few inches wider. And he was looking more and more pissed and glared Sharky's way as the redhead rambled at him. “Abort. Save him, save him _now_!”

Grant was already halfway across the floor before she had even corrected herself. He tossed one arm around Sharky’s shoulders to block him from view as he dragged the man through the densest crowd and slid out the side entrance.

“The fuck man?! I was just getting somewhere with Ellie May-”

“Yeah, and the last one’s boyfriend was gonna make you Shark _bait_. Ya get me?” Grant hissed.

Sharky stared at him for a solid few seconds like he very much did not get Grant, but after a few added seconds, the lightbulb went off. “Man, you guys are so cool, swoopin’ in with a rescue. You're like my own personal angels without the bliss. Ha, you’re Char _lemagne_ ’s Angels. But yeah, Harry’s a dick.”

Grant blinked at him. “You mean you know that guy…? You know what, nevermind. I don’t wanna know.”

Sharky waved his hands, then looked around. “You know what would make this party way better? My black label.”

“Your what?” Grant asked, just as Nicolette finally rejoined the group.

“Liquor I made! I don’t even remember what’s in it or what it’s supposed to be. I just remember trying to blend whiskey, moonshine and absinthe and hopin’ for the best.”

Nicolette sighed and cupped his face in her hands. “Sharky, I love you, but how’re you not dead?”

“Will to live, disco, and pyromania,” Sharky replied without missing a beat- like he had rehearsed it.

The two deputies merely exchanged glances, but said nothing.

Sharky looked between them. “So, you in or not?”

Nicolette sighed. “Fine. Whatever. I do kinda miss letting loose.”

Sharky absolutely beamed, then looked at Grant hopefully.

Grant sighed. “Someone’s gotta make sure you two don’t fucking die.”

“YES!” Sharky jumped up and down. “Wait, goddamn it, John ruined that word. HOO-RAH! That’s your word, right Grant? Wait, Jacob ruined that one, too.”

Grant immediately felt some of the buzz he had accumulated fade out at the reminded that he had the Army in common with that fucking psychopath. “Let’s just go, Sharky.”

“YEAH! … Wait-”

“ _SHARKY_!”

“Okay, let’s go.”

* * *

 

The moment Grant came to he knew two things:

One, he was never ever drinking again.

Two, he was never ever trusting Sharky again.

He let the night sky come into focus, and prayed he had only lost a matter of hours. He was dimly aware of orange glows spotting the edges of his vision. The fact that the last time he had seen those exact colors was after the fucking _helicopter crash,_ he immediately had one giant, glaring priority. “Nic?!”

There was suddenly a reassuring pat on his chest. “I’m here, but at what cost? Holy shit. I can’t feel my body.”

Grant merely groaned in agreement. “Where’s Sharky?”

“I kinda want him to stay lost right now,” Nicolette supplied.

“What the fuck is on fire?” Grant asked.

“Kind of been terrified to look at what it is.”

He groaned again. “… On three?”

“On three," she agreed. 

“One… “

“Two…”

“Three,” they said together, then awkwardly tried to help each other into a sitting position and turned towards the larger mass of orange off to their right- and promptly stared in awe as well as confusion.

Sharky was leaning casually against what they could only assume was the Telecom Tower- which was somehow rigged with burning ropes or sheets,  spelling out ‘FUCK YOU JOHN’ in giant letters that _anybody within a few hundred feet of the tower could see clearly._

The moment the man spotted them, he beamed, and they were horrified to see that he looked no worse for wear when they weren’t entirely sure they had survived the night. He jogged over. “There y’all are! Man, you two sure know how to party more than anyone expected.”

“Who…?” Nicolette asked, motioning at the sign.

“Why?” Grant cut in.

“Oh, that was a mutual decision on all our parts,” Sharky explained. “We wanted to do something that would annoy the man but not enough to get him to come and ruin the fun. Man, Grant, you scaled that thing so quick, it was some Spider-Batman shit.”

Grant gawked at him, then at the top of the tower. “I did…?"

“Hell yeah you did! Nic tied the shit together and stayed on the ground to run damage control in case John did show up and she could and I quote you, Nic, for the record: ‘take one for the team like Addie suggested and get us out of it.’"

Nicolette gripped Grant’s arm tight enough that the man knew he’d have a bruise. He pried her hands off of him.

Sharky looked between them again, then grinned. “Hoooolllllly shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit. You guys don’t remember shit, do you? That’s _hilarious_.”

“It’s _really not_ ,” Nicolette objected.

Sharky waved at her dismissively. “Whatever. I got you guys to unwind. You’re welcome.”

After ten seconds of dead silence and Sharky shrugging, announcing he had to take a piss and leaving the area to do so, Grant finally spoke. “… … I’m gonna kill him.”

Nicolette sighed and went to turn around. “I might actually help yo-oh my god, don’t turn around.”

“What, you see his dick?” he looked at her, then went to turn as well.

"No, just saw the other thing that's on fire, you idi- NO I SAID DON’T TURN-”

“IS THAT MY TRUCK?!  ** _BOSHAW_**!”

“What?! You were insistent that ‘fuck you John’ needed an exclaimation po- Fuck you run fast for a big guy with a hangov- OH GOD!”

Nicolette flinched at the sound of the pair of them hitting the ground, Sharky yelping a couple of times, and then the familiar sound of Hungover Grant Crashing and Regretting All His Life Choices. Well, Sharky was spared- _for now_. They just needed to find a new truck. Shouldn’t have been difficult in the long run.

The radio at her hip suddenly gave off brief static, and she reached for the transmitter and held it up. “Fuck off, John.”

“… I get the sentiment entirely, but I ain’t him.”

 _Mary May._ “Fuck. Sorry. Flight Captain Asshole’s been really adamant about talking to me lately.”

“Honey, you were kinda adamant about talking to him last night,” Mary May replied. 

“Funny thing about that is that I don’t remember any of it so I can willfully deny it," Nicolette pointed out. 

“Plead the fifth. Charming,” her friend teased. 

“Plausible deniability,” she corrected.

“God, Nic, do you remember  _anything_?” Mary May asked.

“Should I?” she replied.

Mary May was silent for a moment, then laughed. “Aaaand another victim falls to Sharky’s black label. We’ve all been there.”

“Should. I?” Nicolette repeated. “… What the fuck did I say to John?”

“Oh, nothing to him, _thank God_. You just kinda tried to yell at him about random shit because ‘he always does it to you and it’s annoying as fuck’,” Mary May answered. “My personal favorite was ‘John, I’ve got a confession for you. I confess to thinking you’re a little bitch.’ But that was _really_ early in the night. Was that other message to John at the tower your doing too?”

“Apparently," Nicolette flinched. 

“Shit, you really don’t remember. Well, turns out y’all took a bunch of cell phone photos before you disappeared.”

“Please tell me I’m fully clothed in all of them.”

“Uh, well, it looks like you are in the gallery, but now I’m afraid to check.”

“We’ll be there in ten.” Her body throbbed at the mere implication it was going to have to move soon. “Make that twenty.”

“I’ll expect you in half an hour.”

“Thank you! Love you!”

“See ya later, Nic.”

Nicolette switched the radio off, groaned and then leaned back again, only to hit her head on something. She glanced to the side and saw some sort of liquor bottle. She picked it up, opened it and gave it an experimental sniff. The resulting full on assault of her sense of smell confirmed that it was whatever this Black Label was. She could dimly hear Grant snoring in the distance- the stuff had provided a hangover that _knocked him back out._ She swore, then after making a quick, all-life-choices-questioned decision of her own, took a quick pull. Hair of the dog that bit you seemed like a smart idea if it ended that bad after a bender. She regretted it immediately since every part of her body burned as it went down and it left an abhorrent aftertaste.

“Hey! Nic! You still with me?!” Sharky called after a moment.

“Yeah, still with ya!”

“Awesome! Woman outlasts the fucking man, good for you!”

She merely groaned again. “Sharky, I hate you. So much.”

“No, ya don’t.”

“Kinda wanna right now.”

“As if you could ever. You got this far, you’re stuck with me. Ride or die, Darlin’!”

“Ride or die,” she chorused. She cracked one eye open, and as much as it pained her to admit it, his answering ear to ear grin made the whole entire fiasco worth it.


	5. Sharky/Female Deputy: The Pickup Artist

Prompt: Sharky x fem Dep I'm a romantic, I know all the pick up lines lol Pretty please!!!  
Rating: T  
Summary: 

“That… was quite possibly the most painful hour I’ve endured here, and I’ve had to deal with the Seeds in person,” she pointed out.   
“Hey! Those lines work sometimes!”   
She sighed. “Do they? Do they _really?_  Is that all your repertoire?”   
“What can I say, I’m a romantic, I know all the pickup lines.”   
She cupped his face in her hands and looked him in the eye.  _“Forget them_.” 

##  **Sharky x Deputy Nic: The Pickup Artist**

* * *

 

“ _Darlin’, you must be from Tennessee, because you’re the only ten I see_.” 

Nicolette Raylan groaned. She and Sharky had been at the Spread Eagle for a few hours now. Sharky had been trying his damnedest to get laid, which apparently garnered a new strategy- using the worst pickup lines ever. She knew he was smart enough to know they were terrible, so he was probably trying to charm them… or something.  He had already tried the couple about the alphabet, needing a map because he was lost in the girl’s eyes, ‘I lost my number so can I have yours?’- it was a _trainwreck._ She wasn’t sure if she was going to have to go Elle Woods, be wingman of the year and get him laid or get him out of danger. 

Five minutes later, it was, “Do I know you? Cause you look exactly like my next girlfriend.” 

And then the kicker, two attempts later: “As long as I have a face, you’ve got a place to sit.” 

She had choked on her whiskey at that and was hardly surprised when the girl on the receiving end of that one threw her drink in his face. 

Sharky slunk back to their table.

Nicolette caught Mary May giving them a murderous look, waved her off and mouthed ‘I got this.’ She turned back to Sharky, retrieved a couple of napkins from the next table over and shoved them at him, then tucked one into the neck of his hoodie and pressed down to try and dry it for him. She shoved his hands down when he tried to bat her away. “That… was quite possibly the most painful hour I’ve endured here, and I’ve had to deal with the Seeds in person,” she pointed out. 

“Hey! They work sometimes!” 

She sighed. “Do they? Do they _really?_  Is that all your repertoire?” 

“What can I say, I’m a romantic, I know all the pickup lines.” 

She cupped his face in her hands and looked him in the eye.  _“Forget them_.” 

Sharky kept eye contact for a while and looked dazed for a second, then he shrugged. “Hey, none of them were as bad as ‘if these walks could talk, or more accurately scream’,” Sharky pointed out.

She stopped. “No, those were  _just as bad_. And I’m still convinced he meant it in the _murder-torture_ sense.” 

“With that voice? Nuh-uh. And you didn’t seem to mind  _that one,”_ he objected.  

She wasn’t quite sure what to think when she realized she had never heard him use the particular tone he had when he had said it. She groaned again, then nudged his knee with hers. “You know, for a guy who thinks John’s got it bad for me,  _you_  sure talk about  _him_ a lot.” 

Sharky gagged. “ _No_. No Ma’am. Don’t even.  _Yelch_.” 

She grinned. “Those big blue eyes you talk about, the smirk, the tight jeans… I don’t think there’s a fucking thing about him you haven’t mentioned.” 

“I  _will_  break this bottle over your head. Doesn’t even matter that you’re a chick  ‘cause I know you can kick my ass and that makes us equal.” 

She dissolved into peels of laughter at that and let her head drop against his shoulder. “Never change, Shark.” 

Sharky leaned his head against hers for a while, then after a few seconds, took hold of her hips lightly and pulled back. “For the record, I am just lookin’ out for you, you know that, right? Because serious, the dude’s carryin’ one hell of a creepy torch, and you need to watch your back when I’m not around to protect you- not that you need protecting, o’ course.” 

She pulled back to look him in the eye again, and her heart twinged when she realized he looked a bit uncertain- and wounded to boot. “Of course I know, you idiot. And thank you.” 

They fell into a companionable silence for a while after that. Sharky downed a beer, and held out his hand to her sideways. “Tag me in, I’m goin’ back.” 

“Really?” she arched an eyebrow. 

“Shark Attack’s always on the prowl, Darlin’.” 

She scoffed playfully, but smacked his hand all the same, and he left the table to go find another potential conquest. “If they slap you I’m not coming to your rescue!” she called. 

Sharky turned around in order to give her a double thumbs up before he turned his hands in order to flip her off immediately after before he disappeared into the crowd. 

It had been another few minutes before she saw him in the crowd again, laughing away with some blonde she had seen every so often. He had his game face on, and the girl was smiling away, twirling a few locks of hair around one finger. 

She almost wished she new what the line was that he had won her over with. She scoffed again- and then had the morbid realization that she had just done her _jealous_  laugh.  She glanced back at Sharky again, and his attention was back on the blonde, goofy smile planted on his face and all, and her gut twisted again. 

Well that was an interesting realization. And she was not nearly drunk enough for it. She flagged Mary May down, motioned at her to bring another whiskey, and settled in for what was bound to be an interesting night. 

* * *

It had only taken a couple of days for her to come to terms with the fact that even at twenty nine, she was harboring a goddamn crush on her best friend. He was fairly good looking, charming in his own strange way, made her laugh even when her fucking world was crumbling around her- in hindsight, it was really only a matter of time before she got interested. 

A couple of months later, she had her second encounter with Jacob, she woke up surrounded by bodies, very aware of the fact that she had killed them. She didn’t want to endanger him, but she had subconsciously gone to the nearest place that her brain considered ‘safe’ - Sharky’s fucking trailer. 

She had just about fallen through his front door and faceplanted onto the floor, and there was a shuffle of feet and she was horrified to put the pieces together that it was Sharky, he was home, and she could’ve just put him in danger. 

“Jesus, Dep, the Hell happened?”

She wanted to tell him everything, anything, but she didn’t have the energy- she mostly just babbled random syllables, unable to formulate a goddamn sentence. The fact that she was shaking didn’t help. 

“Hey, hey, easy, I gotcha…” 

She was dimly aware of the fact that he was holding her, chin firmly on one shoulder blade, his hands running near frantic circles on her arm. 

She didn’t know how long they stayed like that, with him essentially wrapped around her and her clinging to him for dear life. 

After a while, he spoke: “Hey, come on. Snap out of it. I lose you, who the fuck’s gonna give me feedback on my pickup lines?” 

It was enough to bring her back to reality a bit, and she let out a laugh that ended up more a sob than anything, but at least she was suddenly in a far better place than she was seconds ago. 

And it was then that she realized she might have even been _in love with him_.

Considering they flirted casually and nothing ever came from it, that was a very dangerous thing to be- especially given their current situation. And she was in very, very serious trouble- but she couldn’t find it in her to give a damn about that at the moment.

* * *

Another couple of months passed, things had gone to complete and utter shit, but Jacob was dead, and the Whitetails had handed over one of their de-conditioning tapes as a gesture of good faith that they still trusted her and it wasn’t her that had killed Eli- not really, and she wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

A couple of days ago, Sharky had shown up at the Outposts she was at and insisted that she ‘take a couple of days vacation’ with him at John’s ranch: 

“ _Well, I mean it’d be a working vacation, it aint much of a change of scenery, but that place might as well be a resort and it’s yours now, and you fuckin’ need it, Dep, so let’s just go_.” 

She knew he wouldn’t take no for an answer- not that she would’ve said no, anyway, so she had thrown a couple of things in a bag and gone. 

Sharky, the hero that he was, had tried his damnedest to make it seem like a vacation. He had taken her radio and screened varying calls. If it was Resistance business, he passed the jobs onto the Sheriff, Dutch or anybody else around, and they had been more than willing to take care of it once they realized why they had been requested. The other Resistance members had even cleared out for the night, figuring the place was secure if their hero and the resident pyromaniac were around. 

The first entire day had gone smoothly, as did the next morning and afternoon, so the pair had decided to go out onto the patio and nurse a couple of beers by the fire pit. 

They shot the shit for a while- Sharky went on a nearly ten minute rant about how _John didn’t deserve this place, it was gigantic but ‘too small for his fuckin’ ego’, ‘he’s clearly compensating if you catch my drift’_ and the like. 

Things had gotten quiet after a while, and Nicolette realized it might have been the first uncomfortable silence they had ever been through. It didn’t help that the pair of them were standing in front of the firepit, staring into the flames- the kind of action that got everybody self-reflective, which was the last thing anybody needed. She glanced at him and opened her mouth to say something, but he beat her to it: 

“Hey Dep. When this is all over, you aint… gonna like turn me in or nothin’? Cause of all the stuff you see me do? Like all those murders and stuff?  Cause I just feel you and I really bonded, I mean. I was thinkin’ last night, layin’ in bed that we’re kinda like Fast and the Furious… in a way. I’m like Dom ‘cause I’m so good lookin’ and handsome and I’m a sexy outlaw, and you’re like Brian because… you’re a really cool cop, and you’ve got eyes I just wanna swim in for days, y’know? Anyway, we started on opposite sides and now we’re family and I just… don’t wanna go back to bein’ on opposite sides.”

She stared at him for a while. The man had confided in her and admitted to some insecurities, but that entire spiel had been a doozy, between the fear of abandonment, uncertainty about what the Hell he was in her life, and then the line about her eyes that had thrown her for an entirely new loop. 

Sharky scratched his ear. “Aw, Hell, Dep. Say  _somethin_ ’-“

She reached up, knocked his hat off his head, and shoved him down into the Adirondack chair. He opened his mouth to respond- probably to defend his hat’s honor. Without another thought, she climbed on top of him, stradded his hips and cut off whatever he was going to say with a kiss.

Sharky grunted in alarm, but his surprise faded quickly. His hands immediately went to her waist and he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss when when she licked at his lip to gain entrance into it. They broke apart panting after a while. “Or don’t say shit, that works too,” he forced out. 

“What can I say, the ‘eyes I wanna swim in for days’ bit did me in,” she replied before she swooped down to kiss him again, and he met her halfway just as eagerly. 

On their next breath, Sharky suddenly pulled back, and when she looked startled and guilty, he gripped her hips to keep her still. “No, hold up, it’s all good. I just…  I want you to know I was serious just now. You’re my best friend and I don’t wanna make what we’ve got going awkward if-” 

“I’m in love with you,” Nicolette blurted. 

Sharky stared at her, then, carefully: “Oh.  _Awesome_.” 

She arched an eyebrow. She was mortified that she had out and said that so easily, and now he had responded with that. “ ‘Awesome’? You give me ‘awesome’ after that?” she asked. 

“Chica, my blood ain’t exactly going north to my brain right now.” When she gave him another pointed look but still didn’t move, he ran his hands up her thighs. “Darlin’, I’ve been in love with you the second you shot that gas tanker and blew up that Peggie roadblock the second week we knew each other. That better?” 

She beamed and tried to stifle the absolute giggle she had in response. He loved her too. And of course that would’ve been what did him in. She was giddy. Finally something had worked out for her.  “Absolutely,” she replied and she was on him again. 

When she ground down against him pointedly, he let out a rather undignified squeak that he covered up with a very, very deep cough. They pulled apart again. “God, having  _you_  on top is  _so fucking hot._..” he mused. 

“ _Shut up,_  Sharky.” 

Sharky opened his mouth to respond, only to just about choke on his tongue when she yanked her shirt off and threw it at his head. He gaped at her for a second, and she grabbed his hands, moved them to her ass and ground down against him to make a point. 

Luckily enough, he picked up on it. “Yes, Ma’am.” His mouth was immediately back on hers, and he made quick work of helping her get his hoodie off when she yanked at the hem. 

* * *

The sex was amazing, and the pair of them had apparently made a mutual decision not to move from the chair afterwards, merely basking in the afterglow. 

Naturally, Sharky was the one to break it: “Well, that redefines us being ‘ride or die’…” 

Nicolette let out a laugh that was entirely too loud and she immediately covered her mouth to silence it and jabbed him in the ribs for good measure. “Idiot.” 

Sharky snorted. “How pissed d’you think John would be if he found out we fucked in one of his chairs?” 

“First off, not his chair anymore. It’s mine. Second off, majorly pissed. Third, again, you really talk about him way too much, and considering what we just did, I think I should be insulted. Oooor, I mean, if it turns out you and Addie are right and he’s into me, I can probably negotiate a threesome. I mean he’d probably call the whole chair debacle even after that.” She broke into another fit of laughter when he looked at her, horrified. She patted his cheek. “I’m joking, you idiot. I’m not that fucking crazy.” She snuggled against him, and he tightened his grip around her. The laughing, the cuddling- it was the best she had felt in a while. She looked up at him and watched the light from the fire bounce off his face, and it just made the whole thing more real and surreal, all at once. Until one particular thought occurred to her, and she practically cackled. 

“That’s the second time you’ve laughed after we had sex, now I should be the insulted one,” Sharky pointed out. “The Hell’s so funny?” 

“Hey, Babe, are you a flamethrower, because you set my heart on fire,” she declared before bursting out laughing again. 

“… That was quite literally the worst line I’ve ever heard,” Sharky replied after a moment. 

“Yours are worse. You just go with the most random ones no matter the situation and hope for the best.”

Sharky shrugged. “I’m a victim of circumstance.” 

She snorted again and looked up at him. She donned an exceptionally bad southern accent and dropped her voice a couple of octaves. “I thought you called it your pecker,” she quoted. 

Sharky glanced down at her and beamed. “ _I knew_  you watched those kinda movies.” 

“Bet graboids could solve our Seed problem,” she replied lazily, then yawned. “Hey, let’s make John extra mad and go for round two and then pass the fuck out  _in his bed_.” 

Sharky beamed. “Oh, I absolutely  _do love you_ , Girl.” 

She smiled back and then let out a playful shriek when he got up, tossed her over his shoulder and headed for the house. 

She didn’t know how long this particular bout of complete happiness would last, or when the world and all the shit going on would intrude into said happiness, but she was damned well going to enjoy every second that she could. 


	6. Sharky/Deputy, Flu Season

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Holy War waits for one sick pyromaniac, deputy, and a couple of cult leaders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I'd love to see someone taking care of a sick Sharky or Joseph"

For the first time since she had arrived at the damn County, Nicolette was depressed.

She had been through so, so much, and she had finally reached breaking point. Killing Faith had taken everything out of her- not because of guilt or anything, no. Because John was right. She was Wrath. Lunging for Faith after the girl had almost either forced Whitehorse to kill himself or compelled to do so and beating her after their little Bliss showdown with such rage that she had blacked out afterwards would do that to a person. She had snapped out of it, Faith’s bloodied body limp and lifeless under her, dragged the girl into the river and let go. And then she had collapsed on the bank and passed out again. When she came to, she had promptly found the nearest abandoned shack, locked herself in it, and just about shut down, content with being dead to the world.

Outside of Whitehorse, no one contacted her, and she didn’t contact anyone in return. Even John had let radio silence happen, dropping out of their usual spiel of trading insults and promises of harm like they usually did. It was like they all knew. And that made her feel all the worse.

My some miracle, it didn’t take her long to snap out of her haze. She was The Deputy. One Woman Army, Hero and figurehead of the Resistance. She couldn’t mope. She didn’t have the time to do so.

She needed a quick cure, and she knew exactly what the answer was.

Sharky Boshaw, resident pyromaniac and light of her life.

She had booked it to Boshaw Manor, but the optimism died quickly when he didn’t come bursting out of his house excitedly when she got into view of the house.

She didn’t think much of it, just assumed he was in the middle of taking a piss, so she knocked on the door and waited. When there was no response after a minute, she knocked again. She tried two more times after that and worry set in.

Everybody knew Sharky was one of her best friends. It was common knowledge in the Resistance and the Project, if John bugging her about it and constantly asking what they were was any indication. But John had the raw intelligence- maybe even respect for her know that if you fucked with her friends there would be Hell to pay, so he left them alone. Faith- she had taken Earl and worked her black magic, who was to say she hadn’t taken Sharky as another resort and she just hadn’t noticed. Heart in her throat, she knelt down to pick the lock on the door.  She practically threw herself inside when it opened. “Shar-“

The loudest snore she had ever heard cut her off. She swung into the bedroom-

To see Sharky out cold, sprawled over his bed and down to his skivvies, but most importantly alive and unharmed. And surrounded by tissues. She exhaled sharply, all fears alleviated- for the moment. She shook his shoulder. “Shark!”

His only response was another loud snore.

She shook him harder. “Sharky!”

Snore.

She slapped his shoulder blade. “SHARKY!”

The man jerked awake and half threw himself to the side away from the seemingly immediate threat- and straight off the side of the bed.

Nicolette bolted forward onto the bed to try and catch him at the last second but failed miserably, landing just where he had rolled off. A second later Sharky was upright and she was at eye level with his thankfully covered morning wood. She jerked back on instinct.

Sharky blinked at her a couple of times. “The Hell are you doing here, Dep?”

“Making sure you’re not dead,” she replied, straining her neck to not be at eye level with his particular appendage again.

“What?” Sharky asked.

“Now that we’ve established you have a guest, adding some pants to this equation might be nice.”

“Hey, Casa De Boshaw has a strong no pants policy remember, and what- John’s showed you his by now, hasn’t ‘e?” he countered as he headed for a kicked-away pair of jeans in the corner all the same.

“No. He hasn’t.”

“Huh,” was his only response.

“What, no snappy comeback? Usually Addie’s got a whole repertoire she uses against me by now,” she pointed out.

“Can’t think when my brain’s fogged up like a bitch,” Sharky replied.

She was up in his space again at that, trapping his jaw between her hands and looking him in the eye. “Is it bliss? Have you seen Faith lately?”

No, his eyes looked fine. Blue as ever, a bit glossy, but not bliss-fogged like some sort of cataracts from Hell.

Sharky rolled his eyes and scoffed like he was insulted at being treated delicately- a direct contrast to his answering press into her hands like a pleased dog.

She had half a mind to give his goatee a scratch for the laughs, but she resisted.

Sharky “Naw, just have the mother of all colds.”  He took a step and nearly immediately stumbled.

She caught him again. “Just a cold?” she demanded. She stared at him for a solid few seconds, then sighed, defeated again. Fighting back a cult could take a few days off. She could probably negotiate a ceasefire with John if it came to it- just drag Sharky back to the Valley, set him up at a house in Falls End and call it a day. She reached up to feel his forehead. “You’re definitely burning up. That’s a high fever, it’s more than a cold, you don’t feel that, what the Hell?”

“I run hot. Comes with the territory of uh, being into fire…” he began, then looked panicked for a second, but it passed, “And being such a hot catch, huh?” he winked.

She rolled her eyes.  “You didn’t go to a doctor?”

“We’ve only got three doctors and a vet, courtesy of your boyfriend and his family, so…” Sharky shrugged. “Hate doctors, anyway.” He stumbled on the way over to the couch. “Damn it.”

She guided him into the couch and all but shoved him onto it. “Stay there, don’t move.”

Sharky, whose body was apparently determined to override his brain and stretched out on the couch as asked only offered a weak thumbs up.

Nicolette made her way into the bathroom first, raided the cabinet for Ibuprofen and a cup of water, returned to his side and thrust both at him. “Take it.”

Sharky merely grunted and obeyed again before he leaned back on the couch. “I can do this myself, Dep. Hell, the reason I haven’t called on you is because I didn’t wanna bother you none-”

She smacked his chest. “You hush. We need you back to fire-starting fit extremely soon, you’re not gonna be able to do that on your own, especially when you don’t go to the damn doctor. I’m helping and putting you under house arrest whether you like it or not. Besides, I can’t kick cultist ass without my best guy at my side now, can I?” she bent down and offered her first. “Ride or die?”

Sharky gave her fist an accusatory look before he relented and bumped it with his. “Ride or die.”

Nicolette beamed at his extremely weak “boom” once they pulled back for the explosion. She turned around, got the blanket on the opposite couch and tossed it over him. “Rest,” she insisted. Sharky merely grumbled again, so she turned and headed for the kitchen. She rummaged through cabinets, trying to find anything even resembling saltines or anything for soup.It was hardly a surprise when she really only found what a college frat boy would have in his kitchen. “Shark, do you have anything other than beer, cheese, pork rinds and jerky around here?” she was met with silence again “Shark?” Nothing. “Sharky!” she looked up, only to see him out cold.

Yeah. Definitely not just a cold. She turned her attention back to the cabinets, determined to find anything but cheap, nausea-inducing food.

This… was going to be a challenge. That was going to be impossible. And there was one glaring solution. “Fuck…” she picked up her radio transmitter at her hip. “Hey, Asshole. I need another favor.”

* * *

Sharky was confused as all Hell when he woke up sometime later. He felt like he’d die of exhaustion if he so much as moved a muscle. Still, he could hear something going on in the kitchen, and there had been far too many Peggie break-ins under his roof to just assume it was Nic. He rolled over to check.

Nic  was in the kitchen fussing over a giant pot (he had one of those?). The bigger priority: she was in one of his sweatshirts and those infuriatingly short shorts she had gotten from Addie that proved that she was just about all leg. Hell, the sweatshirt covered more of her legs than the damn shorts did. But he wasn’t one to complain or look a gift horse in the mouth, sick as he was. The image of domesticity was something else that tugged on his heartstrings for a second before he had to check himself because Nic would probably have decked him for picturing her as the Domestic Type making meals and shit.

But she literally was doing that for the moment, so the functioning part of his brain was going to enjoy it while he could. That part of his brain also made time for stealing a glance at her ass when she had to climb on the counter to get something from one of the high cabinets.

Jesus, she was perfect.

His thought process was promptly derailed when there was the sound of a car door slamming from directly outside. Nic turned towards the door- and therefore him, where his head was still in a very distinct ‘I was just checking you out’ angle. He was a little too slow to not make it look like that was exactly what he was doing. He was relieved that she didn’t seem to notice or chose not to give away that she had caught him- until something that was fuzzy in his vision and off to the side came into view because she reached for it- and it was her .44 Magnum. So she was expecting whoever it was, but not happy about it.  And he could barely stand up. So much for the Dream Team.

_Shit._

“Oooh, Depuuutttttttttyyyyyy!”

That was very much clearly John Smirkin’ Fuckface Seed.

_Double shit._

In the kitchen, Nic sighed and glanced his way. “Stay here.”

So she had known he was coming. Or invited him. And now she was going out there. Alone. With the creep that either wanted to fuck her or kill her. Or both. Hopefully in that order.

_Triple shit._

He watched her leave and strained to see what was going on. Christ, his body had chosen a great time to shut down on him.

John was outside in the middle of the yard, leaning on the hood of that damn beautiful car he didn’t deserve, smirk visible even from his spot a few feet away. There was something beside him, but he couldn’t make it out. ,

Fuck it, he couldn’t just leave her. He was going to look awful and John would have a fuckin’ field day, but he wasn’t going to leave Nic solo on something that could’ve ended badly.

He hauled himself up and half stumbled to the door and pushed it open.

He was only thankfully a few steps behind Nic, and when he crossed the threshold and she turned to give him an accusatory look, he shrugged to the best of his ability.

She stepped away from the flag up front and into John’s view.

Again, Sharky was grateful that part of him was still aware enough to enjoy the double take John did at Nic- or rather his sweatshirt on her, followed by the very clear jaw clench. The little shit was jealous. Of him. That was a fucking turn around if he’d ever seen one.

Yeah, beat you to that at least, Motherfucker.

It took him another minute to realize John was still staring at him, wheels turning in his head. Shit. He was working out that he wasn’t fighting fit.

“You know, Deputy, when you called, I was under the impression that it was you who needed help. Not the…” John trailed off and looked Sharky’s way, “help.”

_Dick._

“I lied,” Nic replied without missing a beat. “He here, or not?”

John tore his gaze from Sharky and looked her up and down. “You know, considering this is two favors you owe me now, I’ll expect something in return-”

“She ain’t blowin’ you, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Sharky cut in. Of course, that took whatever strength he had gained back from his walk to the door, so he tried not to make it obvious when he shrunk back.

John looked from him to Nic again and arched an eyebrow expectantly.

She scoffed. “He’s got a point-”

“Not what I was getting at,” John argued.

“Liar,” she snapped. When he kept staring, she sighed. She looked up. “Sloth or Pride. When I was in high school, I had this boyfriend. Total asshole, pure jock type. But, I was a cheerleader, and I had to date the cute jock. And I didn’t exactly mind the attention. Got way too lazy, stuck out the relationship even if it made me miserable til college just to avoid the bullshit drama.”

John studied her again- probably imagining her in cheerleading getup, the bastard- not that Sharky was thinking anything different- but nodded all the same. He got up, went to the back of the car and popped the trunk. A moment later there was a muffled protest and John yanked a person out of the trunk- thankfully alive and what looked like unharmed. John pulled some sort of bag out of the trunk and shoved it into the man’s arms.

Nic bolted forward to help the man to his feet, and Sharky’s heart almost stopped at the fact that she was going within arm’s length of John to be a goddamn hero and risking every single potential consequence of that. He went to take a step, only to find himself on shaky legs.

_What. The. Fuck._

Nic shoved the person his way, and Sharky ushered him into the house before he turned back- just in time to see John grab for Nic’s arm and he panicked all over again when he made contact and yanked her back towards him.  

But John made no move to throw her into the car or onto the ground or anything. He just grabbed her to hold her steady and get her attention back on him.

“If you think that counts as your full confession, Deputy, you’re mistaken. But it’s a start, so I will allow it.  

“Yeah, well, put it on my tab,” she yanked her arm free.

Sharky’s head spun when he realized that John merely frowned and let her. Again, he wasn’t sure if it was his brain deciding being awake was too much effort, or the fact that he was never going to understand their dynamic ever.

“I’ll see you soon!” John called after her once she had turned on her heel and marched back towards the house.

“Don’t bet on it,” she hissed, only loud enough for Sharky to hear.

Sharky looked back at John, and the pair stared each other down before John relented- another victory, take that, Fucker- got in his car and sped off. Nic came back out and stood next to him and they waited a couple of minutes extra to make sure he wasn’t coming back with or without an army before they went back inside to check in with whoever John had delivered to them.

* * *

It was a doctor.

John had nabbed some doctor they had taken hostage, pulled him out of a bunker, shoved him in a trunk and delivered him- supplies and all- to them because he thought Nic needed medical attention of any sort.

John. Fucking. Seed. Master of Mystery and All Around Great Big Bag of Dicks.

At least the joke was on him that he had been the sick one and not the object of his fucked up affections- if John was even capable of affection.

A few minutes later, a Q-tip lookin’ thing and one of the worst experiences of Sharky’s life later, he found out that he had the fucking flu.

Boshaws didn’t get the flu. They got minor colds that they could power through and be manly about. Especially when there was Peggie ass to kick. But apparently nature had a funny way of fucking him over, much like everything else lately.

The doc had managed to scrounge up some flu meds and had handed them over and assured him he’d be back to freedom fighting shape within a few days.

It was mortifying, but the fact that Nic hadn’t left his side much was a nice touch. Even with the full knowledge of what he had, she still was more than happy to pop in whatever action flick was within arm’s reach, pop it into the DVD player, and carry on with a marathon for a day, only stopping to make him eat varying soups and other light food he would’ve never eaten on his own, but if she was making it for him and insisting, he was damn well going to eat it.

It was Day Four, halfway through their Die Hard marathon when Nic let out a rather strangled, congested sounding cough.  They looked at each other, and Sharky wasn’t sure whether to laugh or look apologetic because he had called it on day two. It was only a little better that she looked just as torn about the same thing.

After a few seconds, she sighed. “Whatever, I’ll just call John again. He probably took that doctor back. Another housecall won’t hurt. Think getting started on the lust confessions will intrigue him or make him wanna kill me?”

“That’s not fuckin’ funny,” Sharky countered.

“It’s a little funny,” she protested.

Sharky shot her a warning look, but there wasn’t an animosity behind it. “Naw, go with Sloth. That’s the one he’s got on his chest, in’nit? He’ll probably cream himself ‘cause you’ve got something in common with him.”

Gross, but worth it for her own shriek of delighted disgust. She nudged him playfully with her foot, and that had been that.

* * *

Another few days later, and the pair of them were curled up together under the same blanket, almost through a Fast and Furious marathon, and Nic was halfway through a rant on how she appreciated being Brian in that scenario he had come up with a while ago, but was equally offended that he hadn’t considered her Gisele. Sharky’s flu had relapsed because of his returning the favor and not leaving her side when hers got to its rough patch.

Still, that particular stretch had been thankfully John free because the doc had been smart and booked it back to Falls End. He had heard about her getting it, come back with Jerome in tow, and the pastor had taken up the mantle of looking after ‘two of the finest Resistance fighters’ - though he was smart enough to keep a safe distance from both of them and be weary of what he touched.

It was going to take them forever to get back to health, he knew that much.

But Hell, he got a little time off and had arguably convinced The Deputy to take a while off- even if he had accidentally played dirty. And if it was anybody who deserved a few days off, it was her.

He could live with that outcome.

* * *

Two weeks later, a newly-healthy Nicolette got a call on the radio from a very familiar but suddenly nasally voice.

“De-hep-ut-y, we need that doctor back.” 

 She couldn’t believe her goddamn luck. This turn of events was delightful.  “Problem, John?” 

“You. And the Resistance. And my family’s immune system. Is Doctor Howard around or not?” 

 _“Family’s_ , huh? You have it, or just-” 

“Joseph and I. If you don’t have the doctor, word’s spread that you’re not a bad caretaker yourself. We  can kill two birds with one stone, you come out here, make sure none of us die from this infernal illness, you get your Confession done and over with…” 

“I’ll pass. Get well soon, John. Also,  _get fucked_.” 

The muffled, congested growl of rage that was cut off by a coughing fit she got in response before she shut the radio off was absolutely worth the near death experience he’d surely send her way soon. 


End file.
